


The Best-Laid Plans

by coaldustcanary



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Humor, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2010-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaldustcanary/pseuds/coaldustcanary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rocky beginnings of the sweet relationship bewteen Zoe and Wash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best-Laid Plans

Captain Malcolm Reynolds had every reason in the ‘verse to be pleased. Hell, he had reason to be downright ecstatic, if it weren’t for the simple fact that jumping up and down and squealing with delight was something of a less-than-manly spectacle that he’d prefer to avoid inflicting upon his crew. Still, he should have been smiling and in good humor at the very least. His ship was in as fine a form as ever she could be, and full of fuel. The hold was full of cargo with that rarest of distinctions – “legal” and “profitable.” Best of all, he had the most loyal of second-in-commands at his back, the most skilled and clever of pilots at the helm, and the most useful and intuitive mechanic ever to touch a spanner in the engine room. Individually, each was a great asset. Together, well, sometimes there was conflict, to be sure.

“Sir.” Zoe’s voice was particularly curt, and Mal shifted on his seat carefully, glancing at her sideways while pretending not to take his eyes off the fascinating pattern of crumbs before him on the table. He frowned uneasily, hearing far more in that single syllable than he wanted to deal with at the moment.

“Yeah?” Reluctantly, Mal gave her the opportunity to speak her mind. It wouldn’t do for this to fester any more than it already had.

“This ain’t working, Captain. I told you there was something off about him.” Zoe didn’t specify the “him” she was referring to, and she didn’t need to, not really. Not with only one other “him” on the ship besides Mal himself, and her baleful gaze fixed on the lone plastic prehistoric beast toppled and abandoned on the tabletop.

“Zoe,” Mal began, hating the slightly plaintive note in his own voice, “it’s not even been a month, yet. You have to give this time! He’s a character, and he tries my patience a bit, it’s true enough, but…” The withering look she turned on him caused him to falter.

“Gorramit, Zoe, he’s the finest pilot I’ve ever seen!” Mal sputtered. “What the hell is it about him that bothers you so much?”

“Still ain’t quite sure, Captain. But he bothers me.”

* * * * *

“She wants me, I can tell. It’s something in her eyes. And in the way those luscious lips twitch when she sees me.” Wash grinned widely, though it dissolved into a yawn as he raked his hands through his hair, trying to tame the mess that a few hours of quality time with his pillow had wrought. New to the ship, he was spending long hours becoming acquainted with her and doing his best to impress his employer. His hairstyling efforts hardly made any improvement on the bed-head, however, and he gave up quickly enough in favor of stretching, muttering and groaning as muscles protested the interruption of the relatively brief rest period they had enjoyed. He paused, muffling a yawn before he noticed Kaylee’s doubtful expression as she set a mug of strong tea before him and settled on the bench across the table with her own.

“You don’t believe me,” he said with a frown, lips curling and quirking his mustache as he sniffed at the brew and took a tentative sip. Kaylee’s lips were twitching, he noticed, but he had a sinking feeling it had little to do with repressed desire and was more likely due to her efforts not to laugh at him.

“Ain’t exactly that I don’t believe you, Wash, honest, but, well, I believe Zoe more. She’s real truthful and says pretty much what she’s thinking, and to hear her talk, what she’s thinking about is avoiding you as much as possible on a Firefly-class ship. Which is lots, what with the nooks and crannies all over to hide things. Though I think maybe she’s more tempted to knock you out an’ forget you for a while in one of them person-sized nooks rather than hide herself at all.” Kaylee looked quite thoughtful at that, wrapping her hands around her own warm mug, wiggling grease-stained fingers.

“She wouldn’t,” Wash protested. Kaylee shrugged.

“Probably not. You’d be takin’ up valuable cargo space. And not flying the ship, and Serenity hates that, and the Captain loves Serenity, so he wouldn’t let Zoe lock you in with the cargo,” she said decisively, assured of her logical conclusions.

“Besides, she gets annoyed, but you’re just payin’ her compliments and flirting and offering to take her to pretty places, and chatting about the stars, and such,” Kaylee continued, ticking off a list of some of the tactics Wash had employed trying to win Zoe’s favor over the past months.

Wash absently sloshed the tea in his mug, listening to the litany (which sounded suddenly inadequate) and trying with limited success to dissolve the sweetener Kaylee had loaded the drink with, and propped his chin up on the table in one hand, pensive.

“But it’s only been a few months. She’ll come around, and soon enough I’ll bask in the sunshine of her smile, the warmth of her affection, and the balm of her beauty,” Wash said with a dreamy sigh. Leaving off thoughts of doubt, he closed his eyes and tilted his head, relishing thoughts of his affections being someday returned.

“Awwww! That’s real sweet of you, Wash. And optimistic, too,” Kaylee added with a sunny smile.

“Well, if I’m pessimistic, the daydreams aren’t as much fun,” he countered, not opening his eyes, as if he was still enjoying his imagination far too much.

“Maybe you’re spending too much time just dreaming, and not enough doing,” Kaylee teased with a laugh, but Wash smiled proudly and shook his head.

“Oh no. Not by a longshot. I’ve got a plan, you see. I’m going to see it through.”

* * * * *

“Captain, that’s the most hare-brained plot I have heard in my entire life. And you know how meaningful a statement like that is, considering how long I’ve spent in your company.” Mal appeared positively wounded at Zoe’s firm dismissal, frowning and scratching his chin as he tried to think of the words to bring her around.

“I’m just trying to be logical, here, Zoe. Fact is, he’s driving you crazy, acting like a lovestruck puppy, sometimes, and if you’re distracted, I’m at a disadvantage,” he pointed out, punctuating his words with a wagging finger from a safe distance on the other side of the table.

“It’s just self-preservation, that’s all. Ain’t got no other motivation.” Zoe’s disbelieving expression was the only response his suggestion had earned, so he sighed and threw up his hands.

“I think it’s just as awkward as you do, most likely, but it might just put our pilot off your scent for a time. And it wouldn’t mean we’d have to…to…” Mal waved a hand, trailing off awkwardly.

“Have to what, exactly?” If Mal didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn his second-in-command was trying not to smile.

“Aw, you know. You wouldn’t have to act all loving, or anything like that. I know what a trial that would be for you, as irresistible as I might be. Just endure a little flirting, real subtle like, enough to make it clear that you wasn’t interested because you were otherwise…interested.” Mal sunk a little lower in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with this line of discussion he’d begun, but not about to give up on his immensely clever idea.

“Captain, do you do anything with subtlety, let alone flirting?” Zoe asked dryly.

She had him there, he realized. But he figured it was still a damned good plan. Determined, he set his jaw and plowed on ahead.

“Just give me the chance, you fine…lovely…er, amazin’ and, uh, sexy lady. Or not, maybe.”

* * * * *

“She hasn’t given me a chance,” Wash sighed, slumping over the table with a frown. Kaylee made a little sympathetic noise, commiserating, and patted his head as she passed by the bench on her way to stir the soup reheating on the stovetop.

“Well, she and the Captain have been real busy planning for the next job, I think. They’re talking real serious-like all the time, and they’ve been a little distracted. Must be an awful important job they got on line for us,” she said. Wash was not particularly mollified by Kaylee’s logical explanation, however.

“How am I supposed to get any time with her if she’s always playing war room tactics with Mal?” he grumbled. Kaylee shrugged, turning off the heat and rummaging in a cabinet for a pair of bowls to serve up the soup.

“Maybe you should try contributing,” she suggested. “Remember, if you can’t beat ‘em…” From the other end of the table, Jayne looked up from his work, a spare guitar string coiled around his fingers and the instrument itself laid across his lap.

“If you can’t beat ‘em, you can always try shooting them instead,” he offered. “That usually works better, though it’s not often as satisfying down deep inside. Ain’t as much verisimilitude from far off so much as when you’re up close and personal with your fists.” Wash and Kaylee both turned to stare incredulously. Jayne shrugged and returned to gently thumbing the recently replaced string, testing the tone and fractionally turning the peg to tighten it in response to whatever he heard.

“It’s uncanny how he hears and responds, sometimes even eloquently, to things relating to violence, but everything else is in one ear and out the other, possibly bouncing between his smattering of brain cells on the way through,” Wash observed, accepting a bowl of soup from Kaylee with a nod of thanks.

“He is a bit single-minded, but then, so are you, lately,” Kaylee replied with a raised eyebrow. Wash had the decency to look embarrassed, lowering his chin to study the scattering of protein bits floating atop his broth.

“You think I’m trying too hard.” It wasn’t really a question so much as a reluctant admission. Kaylee seesawed her hand back and forth while she took a careful sip from her own bowl.

“I think you’re bein’ real obvious about yourself. And that’s actually pretty endearing, Wash, because it’s clear to anyone with even half a brain…” Her gaze flicked briefly over toward Jayne, still frowning at his guitar. “It’s clear that you mean real well. And you’re a sweet fella, and you know I’d be all over you an’ even tryin’ to get in those coveralls of yours if you weren’t already so obviously otherwise interested,” Kaylee said, grinning good-naturedly. Wash flushed a little, scratching the back of his neck and looking sheepish.

“Don’t be all modest, now. Serenity likes you so much and all, and responds to your piloting so well, I bet you have the best hands,” she drawled with a wink before returning to relative seriousness.

“But I mean it. I think you have to get to see things from Zoe’s perspective if you’re gonna win her heart. And to do that, maybe you could help with the details beyond flyin’ real fast and real skilled,” she suggested. Wash nodded and scooped up a spoonful of soup, raising it in Kaylee’s direction in salute.

“To becoming a genius criminal mastermind.”

* * * * *

“It’s actually a pretty clever idea,” Mal began casually, leaning one hip against the kitchen countertop.

“This from the man who originally wanted to break down the front door.” Zoe was still not entirely or even partially convinced that this was a good idea.

“Yeah, well, brute force has its appeal, and not just to Jayne, but I think this idea of our pilot’s might hold water. Hap Zhang knows me and my face from a ways back, and he doesn’t trust me an inch for various reasons, some of them valid, but he don’t know you, and Wash smiles easy enough that he could play a prospective buyer and get you in the door without having to knock it off its hinges. Then you can cause a distraction, knock some pile of ill-gotten booty over, pretend to swoon or trip over a gun barrel, I don’t know, and Wash’ll open the door to let me and Jayne in with guns drawn on Zhang and his surprised compatriots.” Mal smiled, tapping the pommel of the gun resting against his leg for emphasis.

“Too much could go wrong,” Zoe said harshly. “He’s not used to being in the thick of things, and he doesn’t have the training we do. Does he even know how to shoot?”

“He won’t have to,” Mal insisted. “If comes to that, we’re already neck-deep in trouble and it won’t matter if he doesn’t know where to point a gun.” Zoe shook her head in mute protest, frowning at the door toward the rest of the ship, where she knew Wash was elbow-deep in the console, coaxing speed out of Serenity so they could shave hours off of the trip to Paquin.

“I still don’t see why I can’t go in by myself, or with Jayne,” she said, finally. Now it was Mal’s turn to briskly shake his head.

“I ain’t going to have anyone go in alone. Too dangerous and it’s asking for trouble. Besides, Hap’s got limited perspective, and wouldn’t believe a woman comin’ to see him on her own about buyin’ stolen weaponry, anyway. He’s also a suspicious cuss to boot, and Jayne would rightly set off all his warning bells. Wash can talk your ear off, but he looks mostly harmless. You’re the best one to go in with him, and it was his idea. No, this is the best way.” Mal gave her a measuring look.

“You gonna trust me on this? Can you trust him on this?” he asked, voice even.

“I always trust you, sir. I just hope you both know what the hell you’re doing.”

* * * * *

“What in the name of all that is good and holy do you think you’re doing?”

Wash started awake at the sudden noise, jerking upright from his slumped position over the table, the movement dragging a muffled groan of pain from his lips. Wincing, he hunched over and wrapped an arm gingerly across his abdomen, fingers brushing over the thick pad of gauze taped tightly to his left side. Cautiously, he looked up and met Zoe’s sharp gaze as she strode from the doorway in his direction.

“Resting, per the specific instruction of medical professionals?” he offered meekly.

“Why aren’t you in bed? That can’t be comfortable,” she said with a frown, kneeling down next to the table and briskly pulling up Wash’s eye-burning yellow shirt patterned in bright blue palm trees to critically examine the swath of bandages across his ribs.

“It’s comfortable enough,” he lied easily. “Besides, I feel pretty ridiculous being in bed when I’m not the only walking wounded on board,” he added, pointedly glancing at the sling supporting her left arm.

“This is nothing. This is a clean and already-healing fracture. This, on the other hand,” she said, pointing a finger at his side, “is a gunshot wound. My injury isn’t even to my good arm. You almost lost what I believe is a fairly important internal organ, even to my limited medical knowledge.” Her frown had deepened, though her voice softened from knife-sharpness a little as she noticed him go paler than he already had been.

“You’re lucky we were able to get you to a doctor. Are you going to do something stupid, like making the bribe we had to lay out to get you patched up without the feds noticing a waste by falling on your face?” Gritting his teeth a little against the ache penetrating the painkillers – must be about time for another dose, he realized - Wash shook his head.

“I’m fine. I’m healing. And I’m not going to keel over and die,” he sighed, blinking blearily.

“You could have,” Zoe said, expression solemn. “You got yourself in the way of a bullet that would have missed you easily, and I know damn well you’re not that clumsy.” Wash stilled, looking away from her searching gaze, and felt a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with the bandages supporting his ribs.

“Wouldn’t have missed you,” he muttered, still not looking up. He felt the bench shift as Zoe straightened from her crouching position and settled on the bench next to him.

“Maybe.” It was all she said for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was low and a little hesitant.

“While I appreciate what you did, I hope you’re not thinking this is going to make me fall into your bed out of gratitude with love in my eyes and lust in my heart.” Wash could only make a noise somewhere between choking, wheezing, and giggling. He wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much. Still, honesty won over pride.

“Zoe, I swear to you. Sexual favors were very far from my mind at the time, and, frankly, equally far from my mind right now. Besides, I aim to impress, should I ever convince you to give me the opportunity. It wouldn’t be an honest demonstration of my abilities on that score, what with the injury,” he said, snickering softly. Maybe the pride was still fighting the good fight. Eventually, he drew a very cautious, shallow sigh, mindful of his tight bandages.

“If it makes you feel any better, I would have gotten myself in the way for Mal or Kaylee or even possibly Jayne just the same. I’m clever, but I didn’t have time to think about trying to impress you with a manly bullet hole or win your love via life debt.” He glanced sideways at her expression, unable to resist looking, only to be caught by her own eyes and a smile creeping over her expression.

“But you did it anyway,” she prompted.

“Yup. So much for the grand plan,” he smiled distractedly, though it slid into a grimace as he shifted in his seat.

“Well, it did work,” Zoe reminded him. “We got away with some of the haul, anyway. Jayne was his single-minded self and loaded up the mule with all due haste while Mal took care of that piece of go se with the itchy trigger finger, thankfully.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t the plan, exactly,” he protested vaguely, shaking his head.

“Plans are useless, sometimes, though. They’re only what you make them, not just in the days beforehand, but also in the moment. And frankly, a plan’s only worthwhile if it was a good one in the first place, giving you something to work with and build from. Some aren’t worth it; they don’t have it in them. Yours worked. Not like you thought it would, but it did.” Contemplating the truth of that, head a little fuzzy, he almost didn’t notice when Zoe stood and slipped a hand under his arm to pull him up from his seat.

“Come on. To bed with you,” she ordered gently, helping him to his feet while he chuckled softly again.

“I love a woman who takes charge,” he joked weakly, moving carefully toward the door and his bunk, directed by Zoe’s good hand firmly on his shoulder.

“So I’d noticed,” she quipped.

“Really?”

“Mmmhm.”

Wash mumbled something that might have been an apology, fumbling the door to his room open and cautiously descending the steps, Zoe’s hand on his arm still to steady him. Inside, she nudged him to sit on the bed and dug in the bottle the doctor on Paquin had given them for a pill, pushing the painkiller in one of his hands, and a cup of water in the other. Obediently Wash downed the pill and drained the water, setting the empty cup down on the stand next to the bed. Zoe gave him another nudge, and he lay down with a ragged sigh.

“Okay, yeah, you are full of good ideas involving not being upright,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” she replied quietly, and Wash’s eyes flickered open in surprise when she leaned in and pressed a kiss on his forehead. He forgot to breathe for a moment, and then ruined the effect by having to take a deep gasp of air that rushed out in a bit of a wheeze.

“Don’t die,” she admonished him seriously, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought there was no love in your eyes as a result of our adventures,” he managed.

“There isn’t. Nor lust in my heart,” she agreed, brushing some of his hair off his forehead. “But I’m grateful all the same.”

“That wasn’t in the plan,” he reminded her as sleep crept up on him again despite his best efforts. He heard her climb the steps out of his bunk, and at the top she paused before replying.

“Plans change,” she said lightly, and stepped outside, closing the door.

Wash had just enough energy to grin before he drifted off into particularly pleasant dreams.


End file.
